Shattered Souls
by Youngthundercat67
Summary: When Euphemia Potter survives an attempt at her life, it has a great effect on the people around her. Follow as one change effects Harry Potter, and the people around him. A/U. Rated M to be safe.
1. Awaken!

A/N: Don't Own Harry Potter, just decided to play. Some of the lines in here are taken straight from OOTP, but I'm not sure the proper way to source on FF. I don't do bashing, its just not something I believe in. I have outlined about 10 chapters in my head, so thats that. Anyway, R&R.

* * *

The worst part about Azkaban, contrary to popular belief wasn't the Dementors. It wasn't the fact that because of them, he could feel the sting of his mother's abuse on his backside, see the light of the only women he ever loved leave her eyes, and fall hopelessly as you scream for your best mate to come back to you, only to realize that he is gone and was never coming back. It wasn't the horrible memories their mere presence smashed to the forefront of your conscious, forcing you relive all your nightmares repeatedly. It was the fact that they gave you hope.

Even for those stuck to wallow the rest of their lives in max security, Dementors weren't on guard all the time. As a prisoner, brief reprieves were given, mandatory maybe, to be humane. If only they knew the truth. Being given a break did not help prisoners, it destroyed them, for in that moment of relief, hope filled you. The darkness went away. He began to think that maybe this wouldn't be so bad, that maybe this, combined with the fact he knew he was innocent was enough to keep him sane.

Then he could feel the temperature drop. He could feel the despair begin to take hold of your conscious, the guilt eating him from the inside. Sirius Black was a coward. Too scared to meet his girlfriend Marlene's parents, so instead the man who killed him tortured him by forcing him to watch the memory of her death, only he had somehow modified it to make it seem like it was him who tortured her, him who took the light from her eyes. He was too scared to be his brother's secret keeper, afraid he would die alone to keep save his brother's life. Afraid that somehow, he would wind-up back at Grimmauld Place stuck to the whims of a crazy lady who cursed you if you walked the wrong way.

"I had almost forgotten how cold this place could be," he heard a voice say, but was confused, because Dementors couldn't talk. Had he gotten so used to this place, that he had mentally prepared himself for the worst? It seemed to be so, but he listened closer, it wasn't too often prisoners had visitors.

"Where is he," he had heard her ask. She had sounded familiar, but he had been in their too long to be able to put a voice to a name.

"Last cell on the right," a guard responded. Sirius instantly stirred. He was talking about his cell. What did this mystery woman want with him?

He could hear the clicking on her heels against cold stone, as she, what seemed like, slowly approached his cell, and pried open the door.

"Amelia," Sirius croaked, finally able to a name on her when he saw her face. She had been a couple of years older than him in school. He tried to get with her once, but she had denied him, and then ended up helping training James and himself in Auror academy. "What are you doing here."

"Euphemia woke up."

* * *

Euphemia Potter could only remember short clips from her 'death'. She remembered Lily being pregnant, one of the happiest days of her life was when James strolled casually through her study and told her she was going to be a grandmother. He had bought her a sweater, in her favorite color yellow, with the words 'World's Greatest Granny' stitched on the front. He had thought that it was so clever, but it was good to see that even in the darkest of times, her son had never lost his humor.

She remembered being sick. Dragon Pox it was, in the winter of 79. She remembered lying in a hospital bed and listening as the nurses had pronounced her husband dead. She had wanted to die too. She closed her eyes two days after Fleamont fully intending to die and be with him. She had known that she, along with Fleamont had done everything they could to raise James to be a competent human, and that he would be a great father.

Everything after that became sort of hazy.

She could remember Lily bursting in, screaming about it not being Dragon Pox, and that it was some type of poison. She could remember a cool liquid running down her throat that gave her instant relief. She remembered the relief in James voice, when the healers had told him that she wasn't going to die, but that they hadn't known when she would wake again, if ever. She remembered being angry at that, if they weren't going to wake her, then they should have just let her die!

She remembered Sirius Black coming in and crying over her. Something about Marlene, and how he needed her to wake up, so she could tell him everything would be alright again like when he was a kid.

She remembered Remus, coming in and telling her that he was trying to get the werewolves to remain neutral, so that they had a better shot for a brighter future. That they were doing everything they could do so that when she woke up, this war would be over.

She remembered her son coming in, somber, that he and Lily had gone into hiding, and that he-who-must-not-be-named was after them due to some prophecy but that they wouldn't give up on her and were doing everything they could to bring her back.

She remembered a soft cry, the sound of a small baby, as her son and daughter came in and said "Harry, I want you to meet your gran." She had never wanted to wake up more than she did then. The soft cry of Harry's voice nearly had done it for her, she wanted to wake up, and snatch him from his parent's arms to tell him how much she would love him, and care for him. That was the last time she remembered hearing from her son.

One of the last flashes she could remember was Peter Pettigrew. He had come in sobbing. He had just kept apologizing repeatedly. He said that he was a coward and that he hoped that she would forgive him.

Then her husband spoke to her and she thought it was a dream, but she could have sworn it was real. Lily and James were behind him, smiling at her, and she finally thought she would be getting her peace. Only he told her to say.

"Sirius needs you my love," he had said with that stupid smile that made her fall in love with him. "Harry needs you."

"But, I need you," she had responded but he had drifted away, and she had felt like she had been pulled back, away from the light.

Euphemia gasped, as she felt her lungs take in a huge breath of air and she bolted upright.

* * *

The last few weeks for her had been a whirlwind to say the least. She had finally woken up, which was better than being comatose, but none of the healers would look her in her eyes of give her any news. She was weak at first, of course, but they had soon bought her back to strength, and she was on the verge of hexing the next healer that came in and ignored her request to contact one of her sons. Although she had seen James and Lily with her husband before she woke up, she couldn't believe that they were dead.

It was Augusta Longbottom, who had the misfortune of breaking her heart. Euphemia was sitting there, alone one day in the dull white of her hospital room and had just woken from a nap. The healers had told her that the potions that would make her feel like herself again would make her tired, and she needed to rest to regain her strength. The only problem with that is that she felt like she had been resting for the last year. A simple time charm had told her that it had been a little over two.

"You will let me see my friend, and you will let me see her at once!" She had heard the familiar voice of Augusta Longbottom yell. She smiled at her friend's voice. She was older than Augusta by a couple of years, but they had become close because Fleamont and John were close.

The healer tried to resist, but she heard another voice that soothed her. It was deep, but very familiar.

"If you don't let us in that room this instant, I will bring the full weight of the Wizengamot against you. Not only are you denying us a visit with a dear family friend during visiting hours, but you are causing my wife and I great stress," she had heard Johnathan Longbottom speak, his voice suddenly became somber. "My son and daughter we- "

The healer interrupted them sadly, "That's okay Mr. Longbottom, right this way."

The healer had opened the door, and Euphemia had tried to greet them with her warmest smile, but the looks on their faces dampened her excitement of seeing them. John looked like he was barely keeping it together. Something had been terribly wrong.

"You're awake," Augusta said wearily, obviously surprised and trying to keep herself together. Augusta looked like she had eaten or slept in weeks. John was behind her, and looked like he was barely keeping it together, but he greeted her warmly as always. He then sunk into the visitors chair as if all the weight of the world was forcing him down. Something was terribly wrong.

"Yes," she replied, still holding out hope. "I woke up a couple of weeks ago, I didn't have the strength to do much of anything. Hopefully I'll be out of here soon. I'm dying to see James and Lily and properly meet my grandson"

Augusta immediately threw herself at her at the mention of James, Lily and Harry. Euphemia was alarmed as her oldest friend had begun sobbing uncontrollably in her arms, telling her how sorry she was. She looked to John who had looked like he wanted to say something, but was too choked up to speak, tears freely flowing down his eyes as well.

He wiped away his tears and closed his eyes to calm himself before he opened them and spoke directly to her.

"Euphemia, I don't know how to tell you this," he began, stopping to prepare himself for what he was about to say as if he himself did not believe the words that were coming. He dropped his eyes away from hers and spoke again "Lily and James are dead. Sirius betrayed them to the Dark Lord."

"No," she replied. She suddenly felt heavy, and it wasn't because Augusta was still sobbing in her arms. Tears began to form in her own eyes. Surely her visions weren't true. She had seen Lily and James with Fleamont, but they were not dead. Sirius would not have betrayed them. She could have not of lost her children.

"Look at me!" She shouted at him when he didn't acknowledge her or look up to meet her eyes. When he finally gained the strength to meet her piercing glaze, she spoke "Tell me it isn't true."

"I'm sorry," he had begun but that is all she heard. A dam had broken, and her own tears had started flowing freely with no end in sight. Sirius could have not had betrayed James. It couldn't be true.

However, looking John in the eyes, and seeing the unwavering sorrow that he held for her in that moment finally broke through to her. James was dead, and it was Sirius's fault. She began to wail.

Luckily for her, her friends were great ones. John put up a silencer on the room, Augusta held her tightly for what seemed like hours, and told her it would be alright. That they would get through this.

Euphemia? She just questioned how the world could be so cruel. Why had the powers that be bought her back only to take away everything? What was the point of being saved, when there was nothing to be saved for? She couldn't wait to meet her maker, as she, at that moment, wanted to fight it for being so cruel. What was the point?

Eventually she calmed down. Or rather, her tears ran out. She didn't have any more to cry. She attempted to speak, but her first attempt failed, so she tried again. "He has been tried?"

"Minister Bagnold gave him a life sentence in Azkaban, he didn't have a trial," John had responded. It was illegal, but now she did not care. It is what he deserved, to rot in that cell after all they had done for him. If one of her memories of her being comatose was right, then they all had to be. He must have been driven mad over the death of Marlene. Still, she held no sympathy for him. She nodded in confirmation at her friend before trying to change the subject to get her mind off things.

"Frank and Alice are okay, I presume?" she asked, but never got an answer. The look on John's face said it all. Augusta cried harder into her shoulder. More tears began to form, and she spoke in a crescendo, "No, no, no."

What was happening right now? Had this been some cruel trick? What was the point of this all. She had to be missing something.

"They are not dead," John found the strength to speak again defiantly. "The healers say they are brain dead, tortured by Barty Couch Jr, Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan Lestrange. but I know they're still in there. They will give people hope. They are not lost, I know it. Just like you, one day they will rise."

She knew it wasn't likely, but she held on to hope for her friends. If she could rise from the dead, so could her friends' son and wife. Nothing was impossible. They had sat in that room and spoke for a few more hours. They had told her most of what happened, as far as they knew, in her absence. They told her how death eaters were being dealt harshly, but how some had gotten away by saying they were under the Imperius. They had told her about Neville, which had bought her mood up a bit. If that boy was anything like his father, or grandfather, he would be a great man someday.

Talking about Neville had also triggered something for her. She suddenly remembered what her husband said, "Harry needs you."

"Merlin," she shouted. "Where is my grandson?"

* * *

She stood at the gates of Hogwarts, almost in awe. The special thing about Hogwarts was that it never lost its magic. The moonlight light, mixed with the small pebbles of snow lit up the silhouette of the old castle, and she could see a flicker of the candle light lighting up some of the ancient rooms from afar.

It had been just after dinner, and she had suspected that the students would be off to their dormitories, she didn't want to cause much of a scene, although she did make one leaving the hospital. Knowing she had to get to Harry, she suddenly felt better. She refused to wait for an owl to deliver a letter, so she floo'd directly from the Hospital to Hogsmeade after threatening six healers and walked to the gates of the school.

She knew that the wards would alert the headmaster that she was there and hoped that someone would be waiting for her. Given her situation, she was quite happy that it was Minerva McGonagall, another one of her close friends.

She clutched her chest, almost as if she was having a heart attack and attacked her with a powerful hug, whispering softly in her ear, "I'm so sorry."

She thanked her kindly before responding, "I know this might sound odd, Minnie, but I'm done crying for now. We can mourn later. I need to get my grandson. I need to speak to Dumbledore."

McGonagall nodded and motioned for her to follow. She was taking her immediately to Dumbledore.

"I must warn you, tonight has been a very busy night," McGonagall said after composing herself, "Albus has just had to expel a student for breaking rules trying to find the cursed vaults."

"Students still believe in those blasted things," Euphemia responded with a small chuckle.

"You'd be surprised as to what students believe Euphemia," she responded. "Do you remember being first years on that train and believing that the sorting involved extreme amounts of pain?"

Euphemia laughed for what seemed like the first time in forever. "Those stupid third year boys told us that on the train."

"You married on of them," replied McGonagall with a smile and again Euphemia laughed. It was nice to be able to give her brain a break. She still had a mission though, Harry. They walked up to a large gargoyle statue when Minerva spoke again.

"Here we are," said McGonagall before speaking the password to the door, "Parma Violet."

The gargoyle jumped aside, and Euphemia raised her eyelids in a questioning glance.

"He likes muggle sweets," was the reply she got. Dumbledore had always been sort of odd, so she nodded and moved on, she needed to get Harry back.

"Minerva, what brings you here again tonight," said Dumbledore, but he never got a response. He saw Euphemia emerge from her shadow, and immediately knew that it was going to be a long night.

"Thank you for escorting Euphemia to my office Minerva, you can leave us, me and your friend have much to discuss."

McGonagall nodded, and took her exit, before Dumbledore motioned Euphemia to sit. This would surely change his plans, but maybe for the better.

She glared hard at him. She promised herself not to be angry, that she wouldn't shout at the man, but it was different now that he was sitting in front of her.

"You told him that they would be safe," she snarled.

Dumbledore sighed sadly, and looked ashamed, "I remember that day. Fleamont charged right into this Office and asked me how raving mad I was to invite several seventeen-year old children into a vigilante group to fight the Dark Lord. I promised him that I would keep them as safe as I possibly could. I failed you, I failed them all."

She wanted to reply, but the Headmaster kept talking. It was quite odd, Euphemia could never remember a time seeing Dumbledore like this. It was like the twinkle had faded away, and all that was like was a weary man that suddenly looked twice his age.

He spoke quietly, "not a day goes by these days where I don't feel guilty. I lost thirteen out of twenty-two members! I've got three orphans from that group who will never know the embrace of their parents. Three!"

He paused, stopping himself from his building anger at himself before he looked back at her, face full of regret and guilt, "The world celebrates because he is gone, but I mourn for what I have lost. I'm sorry Euphemia, I should've done more."

He dropped his head again, and her anger faded away. Sure, she was still upset at him, but she refused to beat a dead horse. He held enough guilt, she could see that now.

"Nobody has probably asked you this," she started, choosing to go a different "but are you okay Albus?"

"No," he answered truthfully, "but I've got a castle full of children depending on my staff and I to teach them the wonders of magic. I've got a society recovering from war, that needs something to give them hope. I might question myself lately, but this society needs me."

"I've always said that all of that is a lot for one Wizard to bare," she responded honestly.

"Atlas," he responded, "the price of being great."

She nodded, and a comfortable silence fell between them. She let it simmer for a moment, before she got to the reason she was there.

"Where is Harry," asked Euphemia.

"I have placed Harry with Lily's sister and her husband," Dumbledore answered honestly, and held up his hand when Euphemia began to protest, feeling her anger rising again. "Let me explain?"

It wasn't really and question, and she waited for him to begin talking again She could see the wheels turning in Dumbledore's brain, and it seemed as if the old Professor wasn't sure where to start. He finally began talking.

"Shorty after Fleamont and yourself became ill, my Divination Professor announced his retirement at the end of the school year, and I needed to find a replacement," Dumbledore began.

Euphemia raised her eyebrows in a questioning matter, but he just shook his head, imploring her to let him continue. She didn't understand why this mattered, at all, but she allowed him to continue.

So, he did, "I was conducting interviews in the Hogshead with a woman, Sybil Trelawney, that claimed to be a seer, and wanted the position. To be quite honest with you, I wasn't very impressed with her, but right when I began to leave, hear eyes glossed over and she began to speak in a great terrible voice."

Euphemia nodded, still not quite understanding where this was going, but was allowing Dumbledore to continue nevertheless.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies ..."

Euphemia was following and had begun connecting the dots. At that point in her life, she was still comatose, but she remembered Lily getting pregnant right before she got sick. The timeline matched up, and she finally interrupted the Headmaster. "Is that about Harry?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Yes… and no. If we take the prophecy literally, it could have been Harry, or Neville Longbottom. However, Voldemort chose Harry. You see, at that meeting, there was a spy for Voldemort who was caught eavesdropping and thrown out. He only heard the first part of the prophecy and went to Voldemort to tell him what he had heard."

Euphemia nodded, again, she was starting to understand but still had questions. "Why Harry?"

"I can only guess," Dumbledore replied, but continued when Euphemia made it obvious she wanted him to. "Not a lot of folk know the origins of Voldemort. Did you know, Euphemia that he was a half-blood?"

She shook her head no, but it made sense. Surely, a man preaching extreme pure-blood rhetoric would want to hind the fact that he was not a pure-blood himself.

"It seems to me, that he chose the boy he thought most likely to be a danger to him. He chose, not the pure-blood, but the half-blood like himself. I believe he saw himself in Harry before he had ever saw him, and it choosing to go after your son and daughter-in-law, he unknowingly gave Harry powers to destroy him."

"But how Dumbledore?" She had asked, "Augusta told me that my year-old grandson survived the Killing Curse, that should not be possible."

"I believe that Lily's love, her willingness to sacrifice herself for her child, gave Harry a protection from Voldemort that stopped him from being murdered that night. At the same, time, Voldemort chose to fulfill that prophecy by marking Harry as his equal, he now has a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead."

"And his magic?"

"I don't know," Dumbledore frowned. "I had Madan Pomfrey check him, everything came back fine. As far as we know, he is a healthy baby. He scar is a cursed scar, but it does not seem like it has an adverse effect on him."

"So, then the prophecy is fulfilled, the Dark Lord is dead?" asked Euphemia.

"I don't believe that to be so. I believe that he has somehow anchored himself to this world, and that one day he will return, and your grandson will be in danger," Albus said solemnly. She paled at that. She had to get him, to prepare him for what was to come. She would not lose another family member to this war.

"When can I go get him Albus?" Euphemia asked. Dumbledore sighed, he really didn't have a choice.

"First thing tomorrow morning," he responded, then continued, "although, he is quite safe at the moment. I left him with Lily's sister because they share the same blood. So that same protection that Lily gave him by sacrificing herself will hold and keep him safe at that house as long as he, and Petunia stay there."

"Surely there were better people you could have sent him to? Lily has told me about her sister, she despises our people," Euphemia responded.

"To be honest with you, I had thought about it," Dumbledore responded. "Then another tragedy struck when Frank and Alice Longbottom were attacked for information on Voldemort's whereabouts. The blood wards around that house, not only protect Harry, but the other people in that live with him as well. I didn't want to risk anybody else's safety. You must understand; Death Eaters went after all known affiliates of your son and daughter-in-law looking for the boy. As smart as we think we are, they never thought the look for her sister. "

"If he leaves that house, will the protection last?" Euphemia asked.

"It should work," Dumbledore responded. "By accepting him willingly into your home, the bond of blood created should transfer, as you too are a blood relative of Harry's. I assume you wish to take him to Potter Manor, and while I trust those wards, this ward would only be an added layer of protection."

Euphemia nodded again, suddenly feeling tired. "Is it wrong if I question my son? He knew about the wards of Potter Manor, he would have been safe there, none of this would have happened."

"I think you underestimate grief Euphemia. Put yourself in his shoes. If your father had just died, and your mother was sick, would you want to be prisoner in a home that did nothing but remind you of your grief? Plus, if we look at the facts, wards didn't save the Bones, or the McKinnon's. Do we know for sure that Voldemort wouldn't have gotten to him?

"Sirius betrayed them Euphemia," he continued somberly. "That would have happened no matter where your son had decided to stay."

She shook her head and sighed. Maybe Dumbledore was right. It wouldn't do her any good to question the dead. Wanting to keep as positive as possible, she spoke again, "So tomorrow I can meet my grandson?"

Dumbledore nodded, "Yes. I will take you to him, but we should go to Gringotts first. With you comatose and Harry only a boy, the Goblins sealed the wills until either you woke up, or Harry turned of age as there weren't any other Potters who could have demanded it be heard."

She nodded again, it made sense to her. "Could I stay in the castle? And you could come get me in the morning when it was time?" Dumbledore called for a house elf at once.

"Tippy! Arrange a room for Mrs. Potter at once, and once you're done please escort her, she will be staying in the castle tonight.

* * *

Dumbledore had arranged for them to apparate directly inside of Gringotts. His reasoning was simple, he wanted to keep Harry's whereabouts safe, and to do so the less people that had known she had woken up the better. With the prophet focused on the trials of Death Eaters, and the general recovery of the Wizarding World, no one would really notice she was alive until she was already safe behind the wards of Potter Manor with Harry.

She strolled up to a teller quickly, happy that the bank was mostly empty, before politely asking the teller to see the Potter account manager, Longclaw. A drop a blood later, and a few galleons lighter to keep her identity quiet, she was bought face to face in a small office with the account manager.

He was an older Goblin, whom, despite his name, did not have long claws. Instead, his hands, and feet for that matter, where well groomed, and he smiled a toothy smile. "Mrs. Potter, although the circumstances are not the best, I am quite happy to see you. Sixteen years with the main account frozen would have greatly stagnated the growth."

She frowned. Goblins were marvelous creatures who could preform and provide a great amount of magic, but all they really cared about was money. With the money Fleamont had made off Sleekeazy's, and the royalties their vaults would keep getting from it due to deal Fleamont had made when he sold, the Potter vaults would be filled for generations. Goblins couldn't ignore that, to them, it was the chance to invest, and make more money.

She decided to ignore his rather distasteful comment, Goblins weren't exactly known for their kindness, and found herself moving straight to the point. "I am here to unseal the wills of Lily and James Potter."

"I guessed as much," the Goblin replied before handing over two thick envelopes.

Longclaw then rose quietly from his seat, "If you need my services again today, just call for me. I will give you your privacy."

"Odd little fellow," Dumbledore spoke when he left.

"Yes, but Fleamont liked him. He has made us a lot of money and helped broker the deal to sell the company," she responded absentmindedly, she had already ripped open the envelope that had James's name on it and was reading through the legal part. She had finally found what she was looking for and began to read out loud.

"For Severus Snape," she started, "When my wife went to you after she deduced that it wasn't Dragon Pox that had killed my father, but a poison that acted as if it were Dragon Pox, you were able to figure out what that poison was and provide the antidote that could one day wake her. You didn't have to do that. After all that I have done to you, I'm not quite sure I deserve it. Thank you."

She looked questionably at Dumbledore, and his twinkle had returned. He spoke softly. "He made me promise that I wouldn't tell anyone, but it wasn't magical, and I believe you need to know. He loved Lily, Euphemia. That eavesdropper I told you about? It was him. As soon as he figured out Voldemort had targeted the potters, he begged me to save them. I'm quite sure he saved you because Lily had asked him to."

"Did they know?" she asked not really knowing how to feel about the man. On one hand she was quite furious, on the other, he had saved her life.

"I never told them that is was Severus who told Voldemort," Dumbledore replied sadly, "I never really got the chance. After they used the Fidelius, only a select view knew the location. We thought it was safer that way. They didn't have much outside contact, as they didn't want owls intercepted."

She nodded and decided to dwell on Severus later and continued reading. They had told the Longbottom couple that they were thankful for being so understanding and letting Harry play with their Neville for the brief moments the boys got to share. There were some other things in there, but she was looking for certain names specifically, and when she found them, she took a deep breath to calm herself, before reading again.

"For Remus Lupin, I'm an idiot, aren't I? You trusted me with your deepest secret, and I couldn't even trust you to not turn your back on me. I'm sorry brother, I really am. War is strange. Suddenly you find yourself questioning everything, and you become paranoid. I always told you that it didn't matter that you were a werewolf, only it obviously did, didn't it? In the end, even after all that you have done for me, for us, I still let an old prejudice get the best of me. I'll spend my next adventure guilty for that. I should have trusted you. Should this ever need to be read, then know that I was wrong and I'm sorry. Please forgive me. Please don't shut yourself out from the rest of the world because I betrayed you. Sirius is going to need you. Depression will haunt him, don't let him fade. Please. Forgive Peter. I do. Sirius will need your help doing so as well. They say a wolf always protects his pack. I leave my pup in your safety Moony, like I should have left my own life."

"Forgive Peter?" she spoke. "Why would James want Remus to forgive Peter and help Sirius. I feel like were missing something here Albus."

"I don't really know," Dumbledore responded, puzzled as well. "The only way to find out is to keep reading."

"For Sirius Black," she started again, "I don't want you to beat yourself up. It was a brilliant plan. I know you had just lost Marlene, and I really didn't want you to bare another burden so heavy. I know that you will blame yourself and think that this was all your fault. I know that it will take a while before you're ready to face world again but promise not to take too long. Harry will need you. If my mum never recovers, he will need you that much more."

It was Dumbledore, this time giving the questioning glances, but she continued reading. "When I was eleven years old I boarded a train, not knowing what the next seven years of my life would be like. You bumped into me, and from then we were stuck at the hip. We lived together, we learned how to fly together, we got our first kiss from those two muggles in the local town together, do you remember? You were got me drunk for the first time. You got me my first detention. You told me that I should never give up on Lily, and that one day we would marry and have beautiful children. You were the one who told me it was time to grow up if I ever wanted the girl of my dreams. For everything I am, you were there and I can't thank you enough for that,"

"When Marlene died, I felt so guilty. Due to our own situation, I couldn't be there for you, like you were always here for me. I saw you die a little inside, I wish you never opened that memory, but we can't change the past. I want you to know that none of this was your fault. Zero Sirius, and I'm quite serious. Haha, get it? Mourn me sure but promise me you will get over it. Promise me that you won't let your guilt sully the rest of your life. I need you to move on brother. I need you to find happiness. To find love. To have children of your own. To teach Harry the things you taught me, about brotherhood, and compassion, and love. Forgive Peter. Don't lose your spark."

"When we were eleven we stayed up late on our first weekend of Hogwarts and promised we would grow old together. I'm sorry I couldn't fulfill that promise. So, I leave it up to you. Don't let this temporary darkness destroy the light. Grow old for the both of us. Take Care. "

She had tears in her eyes by the time she finished, "Albus, he didn't do it."

"I know," Albus shook his head, before asking for the will. He skimmed it and frowned immediately. He began to read.

"For Peter Pettigrew, life isn't always easy. We forgive you. No matter what happens we love you. I watched proudly, as you turned from a timid young boy that I had meant on the first night in our dorm, to a grown man that I had come to respect and trust. If this will were ever needed to be read, know that I am not mad. War isn't easy. People leave their homes everyday not knowing if they will make it back to their families. I imagine if you gave us up, there had to be some reason. Torture, or maybe the threat of your own death even. I never wanted my friends to have to put their shield in front of a sword for me. So, if it came down to us or you, we understand. I choose to focus on the great times we shared. No matter what happens, I'll always love you brother."

"It was Peter?" she whispered quietly, tears still falling from her cheeks. It made sense now. Peter had come to visit her. He was sobbing and kept apologizing. He felt guilty. She sighed. She didn't know if she was strong enough to forgive him like her son was and it still left many of questions about what happened between Sirius and Peter.

Albus nodded, before suddenly getting old again, "I didn't know. They told me that Sirius would be the secret keeper, but they switched. It must have been Peter betraying the order the entire time."

"What if he didn't kill all those people Albus," she asked, "What if Sirius is sitting in that cell, an innocent man? I want to speak with him."

"I understand, but you will expose yourself," Dumbledore replied.

"I don't care about that anymore. I lost James already. I want my other son back."

* * *

A/N So tell me what you think please. I haven't had anyone proof read this but Microsoft Word, and we all know how garbage that can be. Remember to R&R please =)


	2. The Hills!

A/N: Sorry for the wait! I actually just got off a two week vacation, and probably should of waited to post this story until after I got back, but couldn't help myself. Hopefully from now on, I can update weekly, but we will see how work and school goes. Also, want to thank everyone who reviewed, followed, etc! Anyway, I don't own Harry Potter. R&R!

* * *

"Harry look, the doggy is back," Neville shouted, excitement painting his lungs as his short legs carried him aimlessly down the grassy hills of Potter Manor. It was truly a large property that went for what seemed like days for the boys. If it wasn't for the house-elves, they would surely get lost all the time.

That was part of the reason that Neville liked sticking by the main property and the greenhouses, the other reason, of course, was that he loved plants.

"Here I come," Harry shouted, secretly letting the garden snake he was talking to down into the grass. Even children held secrets. Harry wasn't any different. He took off running down the hill after his friend, only slowing himself to a stop right out side the fence that separated his property and the next.

The fence wasn't really there, it was just a clever way to make the ward lines look normal to the muggles that lived in the small town near them, but Harry and Neville hadn't really known that. To them, it was just a fence that the large black dog at the bottom of the hill had refused to cross.

Upon seeing them, the dog barked happily while lowing his upper half of his body low to the ground and wagging his tail. He released a ball he had in his mouth and used his nose to push it past the face and into the waiting hands of Harry,

Harry laughed, and played along, before tossing the ball as far as he could back over the fence. This continued for about a half hour, with Neville and Harry taking turns throwing the ball before Euphemia came down, and the dog took off in the other direction.

"Wait," she called out, but it was too late. The dog was gone.

* * *

Sirius blinked a few times to wake himself up. He stared peacefully at the rotating fan, on the ceiling. Its movements were so rhythmic, and in an odd way, the movements and sound put him at peace.

He knew where he was, it was an apartment in Muggle London that he rented but it never felt like home. He knew magic and electricity really didn't go together, so he had used magic to make the place seem electric. Simple household spells made even the most magical of houses feel mundane. It was obviously working for him, especially if the warm body next to him seemed so comfortable. Still, it wasn't home. He couldn't go there, not yet.

He groaned as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of his bed. He slowly opened the drawer to his bedside stand and shielded his spell with his body. He didn't remember much of the previous night, or much of any previous night if he was honest, so he really didn't know if the woman lying naked in his bed was a witch or muggle.

He lazily flicked his wand, and the time shot up. Silent spells still made him feel as cool as the first time he ever performed one.

It was a quarter past eleven. Remus was supposed to come over at noon. He turned to look at the dark-skinned beauty in the bed behind him. She was sleeping ever so peacefully, and he couldn't find it in himself to wake her up. Merlin she was beautiful, her face was so angelic, and her curls were almost as mesmerizing as that fan. Too bad he couldn't remember her name.

He rose as quietly as he could and walked into his bathroom which was conveniently attached to his bedroom in his small flat. He went over to the light switch, and instead of flipping in, tapped a tile three tiles to the left of his light where he kept his potions. He quickly downed a hang-over potion of his own, before slipping on into a vile for the woman in his bed. He would never be known as a bad host.

On his way out of his bedroom, and into the kitchen, he stopped on his way to put some clothes on. It wasn't like he had anywhere to go, so he didn't see a need to properly clean himself. He dressed quietly and gave himself a look over in the mirror.

"You look like shit," the mirror spoke to him bluntly, a reflection of himself talking back. It had been a present that James had left him, it was supposed to keep him humble. The only reason he hadn't broken the damn thing was because James left it, and he couldn't bring himself to do it.

He should have ignored it, but felt compelled to talk back, "Shh, I can't remember if she is a muggle."

The mirror version of him rolled its eyes, and sheepishly grinned "Of course you don't, you're an idiot."

This time he had enough sense to walk away. Too often he had found himself arguing with that thing, especially when he was drunk. He had said some awful things to himself when he was drunk.

He walked in the kitchen and started the kettle for his afternoon tea. He eventually decided to cook brunch. He figured if he couldn't remember her name, he should at least make it up by cooking her brunch.

Sirius started off by poaching some eggs and frying some bacon. He never really enjoyed beans, partially due to Berties, so he skipped those instead opting to go for hash browns. The smell eventually woke the woman from her slumber, because she eventually emerged from the room with a brilliant smile.

"Good morning beautiful," Sirius said happily, taking the time to get his first good sober look at her. She was naked still, halfway hiding her body between the doorframe and the open space. She was beautiful, and he would love to spend more time with her but was too embarrassed to ask her out during the day time. He still couldn't remember her name. She probably wouldn't like that.

Her smile brightened, "Why don't you leave all that and come back to bed with me?"

He was tempted, of course, but sadly shook his head, "My best mate is supposed to be here soon, he's a little prude, and I'm sure you wouldn't want him to hear the noises you make."

He was making shit up at that point, he had no clue what she sounded like during sex, but it worked, as she started to giggle which caused her chest to jiggle, which made him a little happy. He smirked triumphantly, he still had it. Whatever it was.

"Fine," she said her mood suddenly changing as her face transformed into a pout, "but you have to make it up to me next time."

Sirius highly doubted there would be a next time but shrugged his shoulders anyway, "Whatever you want beautiful."

She sauntered over to him to give him a quick peck on the lips, before swaying beautifully away and closed the door.

"That was almost better than the fan," he muttered, before shouting out, "Tea or Coffee?"

"Coffee," she responded, but she sounded quite irritated although he couldn't figure out why. He felt like he was missing something. Shrugging again, he made her Coffee, adding the potion just before he set her cup on the counter.

She emerged from the room, this time clothed, and it was his turn to pout. "You didn't have to get dressed."

She giggled again, it was kind of contagious. "Remus is coming over remember? You wouldn't want to share me, would you?"

Confusion flashed, but he did his best to hide it. How did she know it was Moony who was coming over? Instead he smiled warmly, "You're all mine."

There would probably be a different one in his bed that night if he was honest, but he wasn't going to tell her that. This is how most days went. He'd wake up to some beauty in his bed, cook her breakfast, kick her out, wait for Remus, and then get drunk and do it all over again. Sometimes Remus didn't come, and he would be left bored in his own thoughts, but he was fine with that. He really didn't like being bothered.

She was different though, because when she got done eating, she got up to leave herself, grabbing her purse before she walked out.

"I'll see you again?" she asked, her big brown eyes staring up at him.

"Of course," he lied easily and kissed her forehead. A sharp knock interrupted them, and because she was leaving anyways, she went to open it.

"Remus!" she said warmly, as she opened the door.

Moony, ever the gentlemen, smiled back. "Pam, it's so nice to see you."

Sirius made a face at him, and Remus fought hard not to roll his eyes. He knew exactly where this was going. It had happened so often.

"Maybe, we'll catch up next time," said Pam "I'd love to hear some proper stories about you two growing up."

Sirius shook his head vigorously, but Moony was contempt to ignore him. "Absolutely."

She smiled at him again before she left, and Moony finally gave the eye roll he was holding in.

"How do you know her name?" Sirius asked, a tad bit interested. "You didn't use legilimency did you?"

"Seriously?" Moony replied. "That's her third time here this week, and you still don't remember her name? She practically has a drawer."

Sirius shrugged.

"No, seriously," Remus said, trying to be, well, serious. "You drink way too much."

"I drink to keep the pain away," Sirius responded absently. He knew it was cliché, but it was honest. Remus sighed.

"Nobody blames you," Moony said, and Sirius groaned. He was tired of hearing that. Tired of being told that it wasn't his fault. Nobody understood.

"I blame me, that's all that really matters," Sirius responded, going back over to his kitchen island and sitting down. "I made enough food for you if you're hungry."

Moony sighed sadly. It was quite irritating, this dance that they had. Two or Three times a week he had come here trying to convince Sirius to stop blaming himself and to go visit his Euphemia and his godson. Every time, Sirius came up with excuses to why he couldn't. Sometimes he wanted to strangle the guy.

He went over to sit at the island next to his friend and passed him the Prophet he was so used to bringing him. "Have you at least thought about going to therapy?"

"I'm not going to see a muggle mind healer," Sirius responded flatly.

"You don't seem to mind bringing muggle women here nightly," Moody countered.

Sirius shrugged, that was different. "Not everyone can be a perfect god like you. Who do you think you are, Ares?"

Moony again rolled his eyes, "When have you ever seen me so violent?"

Sirius laughed, "I could name a few times if you'd like?"

Moony shook his head in frustration again, "This isn't about me."

"I know, dad, I know," Sirius responded. "Can we save the lecture this time?"

Remus sighed and sipped his tea. He knew he was fighting a losing battle, but that didn't mean that he wouldn't keep trying. James would have wanted him too.

Sirius looked up at his best mate, studying him a bit, trying to judge whether he had the right to ask his next question. He suddenly felt small, yet he was a Gryffindor for a reason. He sighed.

"How is Harry anyway," Sirius asked, and knew he made a mistake once Remus growled at him.

"You don't get to ask that question," Remus barked, throwing the paper down and closing his eyes in obvious frustration. "You haven't been to see him in four years, and you think that you can just live vicariously through me. Get your shit together Sirius, before it's too late."

"I do," Sirius responded quietly, his head hung, shoulders drooped, in obvious shame, "I do."

Remus raised his eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

"It started a few weeks ago," Sirius admitted. "You weren't coming over, and I was curious. So, I went over there."

He sighed, "I sniffed around the outer wards as Padfoot, hoping to catch a glimpse of him."

"Its supposed to be under Fidelius by Dumbledore himself," Remus responded.

"She sent me a note, soon after she got me out. Wanted me to come over for dinner. I was too much of a coward to go," he responded, the guilt vibrating from his body.

"I guess she hasn't had the need to update it," he replied after a short silence, sadness commanding his voice, tears freely flowing. "After all these years, she still doesn't hate me like she should."

"Sirius," Remus tried, but Sirius shook his head and began to talk again.

"I saw Neville first. It was like Frank and Alice fused together in the form of a child. Sandy blond hair like his mother, round chubby cheeks like his dad, and his joy, his joy of rolling down that hill could light up the world."

Remus jumped slightly as Sirius pounded his fist on the island.

"How I face him, face Augusta after what my own blood did to his parents?" Sirius snarled, looking up to meet Remus's eyes.

"Sirius," he tried again, again to be interrupted.

"No, you wanted me to fucking talk, so I'm talking," Sirius shouted.

He took a deep breathe and continued. "You could tell he was a little afraid, not that he doesn't have reason to be. He immediately called for Harry, and instantly he was there, like a true friend is supposed to be."

"He stepped in front of Neville like a shield, spitting image of James, but with Lily's eyes," Sirius cried harder. "He looks healthy. Happy even. What could I ever have to offer? Why would he ever need me? The person who was too scared to protect his parents."

"You're wrong," Remus said, determination filling his voice as he waved his hand and magically stopped Sirius from interrupting again. It was his turn to sigh.

"He asks about you," Remus started which caused Sirius to snap his head up, "Just the other day I was sitting with him. In the library of all places. Four years old and already reading and understanding books, can you believe it?"

"I imagine Lily was reading at four," Sirius responded with a small smile through his tears.

"Probably," Remus laughed before continuing his story. "We were sitting there quietly, Harry reading his picture book about magical animals, Neville idly playing with a plant of all things, when suddenly he looked up at me."

"What happened to Padfoot? he had asked," Remus smiled again, mimicking young Harry's voice, "He got me that broom when I was a baby, and used to do that funny trick where he would turn into that big black dog and lick me."

Shocked ran across Sirius face, "He knows? He knew it was me when I went to see him yesterday? I always run when Euphemia comes, how does he have such a great memory of when he was a baby?"

Remus shrugged, "He's smart Sirius. He has been for as long as I've known him. He picks up on things that normal four-year-old children wouldn't."

"The point is that he remembers you fondly," Remus continued, "And I'd be willing to bet that he wants to see you."

"No," Sirius responded pointing to himself. "Not like this."

Remus pulled his closest friend into a strong hug, before pulling back to look him dead in his eyes "Sirius, you need help."

"I know," responded Sirius. "I know."

* * *

"Gran," the five-year-old whined, his arm stretched while his tiny hand gripped a paint brush, "Do I have to paint today? It's my birthday."

Euphemia laughed, sometimes it had hurt that he reminded her so much of James, but today was not one of those days.

"Now Harry," she responded, and almost giggled again when the small boy took that as his cue to take a break, "Painting was the foundation of your father's great skill in the art Transfiguration, the stroke of a brush is just like the flick of a wand. When you're sitting and taking lessons with Professor McGonagall in a couple of years, you will thank me."

She let out another small smile as the boy turned to pout at her, something that she had become immune to over the years, before continuing, "Besides, how would Professor McGonagall feel if I told her one of her favorite five-year-old boys didn't like her subject?"

Harry dramatically sighed in defeat and turned back to his painting, but it was Neville's turn to give her some of his own sass.

"But Mrs. Euphema-," he had begun only to be interrupted with the correct way to say her name, pronunciation was, after all, very important for young wizards, "But Mrs. Potter, I only like plants. Why do I have to paint?"

"Neville," Augusta started, "Mind your manners."

"Oh, let the boy be," Euphemia responded, "Besides he has a valid point. I'll just make sure to tell Professor McGonagall, when she comes over to celebrate their birthdays later, that Neville here doesn't like Transfiguration."

"No!" Neville shouted, before jumping back to his canvas. "Mrs. Gonagall can't be upset with me!"

This time both Augusta and Euphemia laughed. It still amazed them how their dear old friend had managed to put the fear of Merlin in school children. They had stories that could easily ruin her image, of course, but they liked their friend too much.

The boys went back to practicing their painting, and the two ladies had went back to their own vices. Augusta chose to knit, something she picked up soon after John had died when the boys were three. With Frank being mentally insane, and John dying, she had to figure out something to keep herself busy. For her it was knitting and politics. She refused to let the great Longbottom name be tainted and being a force in the Wizengamot was her way of pushing the family along, at least until Neville could take the reins.

Euphemia usually left Augusta up to her study, so that she could prepare herself for the Wizengamot, and the many boards, and offices her friend held to keep herself busy. In the meantime, she would keep an eye on Harry and Neville, making sure that they had their fun as kids, while trying to make sure they developed properly along the way.

Euphemia's choice was a crochet needle. She had no interest in politics and had very little reason to work at all due to the royalties from Sleekeazy's. So instead she dedicated her time preparing Harry and Neville, the Longbottom's had practically moved in, for life, and a small blanket occasionally.

To her, Harry was the perfect child. He reminded her so much of James, but the flashes of Lily were too bright to ignore. He was so smart. He had surprisingly picked up walking, talking, reading, and writing before he had turned 4. Even when he couldn't, it seemed like he understood everything she ever told him perfect.

Neville was more timid and shy and wasn't as far along reading and writing, but it was obvious that Harry had a positive effect on him. He loved being outside, and the boy was obsessed with plants. He loved them and would spend days in the greenhouses just looking at the different plants if you would let him.

Together they were quite the duo. They almost did everything together. They ate together, played together, hell, the even insisted on sharing the same room when they slept. They were brothers in all but blood and reminded her a lot of Sirius and James. Hopefully they could find a Remus and avoid a Peter.

They boys were fit, Harry was lanky, but so was James at his age, while Neville was a bit shorter and stockier, but both were very healthy, young wizards. They barely did anything too crazy, except the time she caught them trying to practice magic with their fathers' wands.

The pop of a small house-elf bough her out of her thoughts. "Mistress, a man has entered the wards. He smells like that dog that Master Harry and Master Neville like to play with."

"Thank you, Tilly," Euphemia beamed.

* * *

Sirius had apparated to the top of the hill, on the other side of the property. One of the cool things about Potter Manor was located on top of a series of hills that were basically the bases to another series of hills.

Standing there, just outside the wards, he had to confess, he was nervous. The last year had been taxing on him for sure. He had to face a lot of truths about himself that just wasn't easy. Therapy helped. His therapist had even gotten into to a muggle alcoholics anonymous program that got rid of his drinking habit. He had been sober for 8 months now, and he was quite proud of it.

The wind started to blow, as if it were prodding him to go down the hill and he smiled. He remembered this, as a child. Every time they came back from Hogwarts, him and James had rolled down this hill, the loser had to de-gnome the garden outside the green houses. He won more often then he lost, but that didn't matter not now.

A crack of thunder sounded in the distance, and it began to sprinkle, the perfect cover to hide his tears. In the clouds, he could have sworn he saw a stag and a doe, staring down at him. He blinked, and just like that they were gone.

"I hope you're not too mad at me," he spoke to the air, knowing James would somehow hear him. "I lost my spark there for a while and wasn't quite sure I would ever get it back."

"But here I am," he continued. "I'm trying, and I can't promise I'll be perfect, but I'll do the best I can for you, for Harry. I'll grow old for you. I'll find some nice girl to settle down with, to have kids of my own. I'll do everything I can to protect Harry, and Neville, from now until the day we meet again brother. I promise."

A rousing sound of thunder clapped again, and he threw himself down the hill, laughing while he tumbled aimlessly to the bottom. When his momentum stopped, he found himself staring up at the sky and began to laugh, just like they did when they were teen.

He picked himself up, off the wet grass, and took a step towards the front door. At first, it was heavy, and he felt as if the steps were labored, but the closer he got the easier it was. This place had a familiar feeling for him. He reached up to knock on the door, but before he could it had already been swung open.

He stared at her, mouth slightly agape, at a lost for words. She looked good for her age, and it looked like taking care of two young boys was doing wonders for him. She smiled warmly, and he suddenly felt guilty.

"Mum," he started, trying to find the right words to say, before she shushed him quietly.

"It's okay now," she responded back to him, and pulled him into a crushing hug. "You're home."

* * *

Behind them, a five-year-old beamed. This had been the best birthday ever, Sirius had finally decided to come home.

"How nauseating," the voice that always occupied his head had spoken.

"Even you can't ruin this for me Tom," Harry responded, all in his brain.

"I suppose," Tom replied, "Although, I would guess that your godfathers return would mean that I don't have much time with you."

"That's okay," Harry responded, although, he admitted, he felt a little sad. "I don't need you as much anymore, and you have already taught me a lot."

He heard the voice in his head sigh, "When I leave, I can't promise that you won't be flooded with everything I have ever done. I'll try to protect you, but I don't know if it will work."

"Come on," Harry responded. "It can't be that bad."

"You are so naïve Harry," Tom responded, and he began to think, which was weird for Harry because it felt like his thoughts were thinking.

"Promise me something," Tom said, after a few moments of silence, both, threw Harry's eyes, watching Sirius cry into his grandmother's arms as she spoke softly to him.

"What is it?" Harry responded.

"Promise you never forget this feeling. Love, I think you would call it. I never learned what love was, and I think, through you, I might finally understand it now."

"Yeah," Harry responded, "It feels quite nice doesn't it?"

He felt Tom mentally nod, "Good bye Harry."

That was the last thing he remembered that day, because the others watched in horror as he crumpled to the floor, smacking his head hard, against the floor, why a black smoke that held the face of a young boy with tears in his eyes, erupted from his scar.

* * *

A/N: So again, tell me what you think, how you feel, etc. I am dying to know! Thanks for reading! Don't forget to review!


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